


Ruined Suits

by anonniemoose



Series: The Beetlejuice Conglomerate One Shots [3]
Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King, Original Work
Genre: BDSM, Caning, Creampie, F/M, Glove Kink, Leather Kink, Mafia AU, Predator/Prey, Punishment, brat taming, chained to a floor, collaring, ends with aftercare, expensive suits, fingering but with leather gloves on, gio is italian mafia don beetlejuice, idek why people make suits so expensive like spend your money on better things people, idk anything else, pred and prey, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:48:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25013446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonniemoose/pseuds/anonniemoose
Summary: You had no idea that Gio would even own a suit so expensive. In hindsight, his punishment for you was for good reason.Notes: Ok so in a Discord I'm in, we created an Italian Mafia Boss Beetlejuice named Scarafaggio.....from there we just went nuts. For all notes please go toherefor more info on all 5 versions of Mafia!Beej.
Relationships: Beetlejuice/reader, Gio/Reader, OC/Reader, Scarafaggio Shoggoth/Reader, Scarafaggio/Reader
Series: The Beetlejuice Conglomerate One Shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1751845
Kudos: 14





	Ruined Suits

**Author's Note:**

> So, basically, there was some discussion a while ago in the discord about the dons catching you wearing their clothes. I, personally, wasn’t there when it went down but…..it left me for some food for thought. Gio isn’t my fave, this was more for a friend than anything else, so at the end it might be OOC? Idk, I’m still testing him out.
> 
> Requests are open, commissions are back open. HMU if you want anything so we can talk it out.

In your defence, you had no idea that the suit was nearly $100, 000. The words ‘Dormeuil Vanquish II’ meant nothing to you. What _did_ mean something to you, was that it was soft, it smelt nice and it was Gio’s. Gio, the man with good taste, the man who wants you to be comfortable. The man who would murder you if he found out you were stretching and warping the shape of his expensive suit as you wandered around the smoking room, fiddling with his cane, giving out fake orders in a very, very poor imitation of the man

It amused you, mostly because you knew you wouldn’t get caught. Gio was off at some function and wasn’t meant to be home for at _least_ another hour or so-

“What are you doing?” You pause at the sound of a very, very unimpressed voice filling the room. You slowly, slowly turn to face Gio, taking note of the red beginning to thread through his hair. He takes in the sight of you, oversized pants scrunched up at your feed, a shirt that was meant for Gio being stretched out, even though you left some buttons undone in order not to pop them with your chest, his blazer and shirt sleeves rolled up so you had your hands free and his cane currently being used as a baton. 

Your hands move as you bounce your two pointer fingers together, your other fingers curled in with your thumbs standing up, pouting up at him as you try to cute yourself out of the situation. “I thought I looked adorable?”

He. Was not impressed. “Take it off.”

“Make me.” The words fall from your lips before you have a chance to hold them back, but you stand your ground. No, this was _your_ time to be the top. You were in charge.

“Y/N. I’m going to count to three.” He warns, taking a step forward, out of the doorway and closer towards you. His presence fills the room more than he actually does, almost intimidatingly so. But even then. He can’t knock you down, not when you are on your high horse.

“No.” You say again. “I’m Daddy now.”

Gio doesn’t respond with words more as he just lets out a growl and charges towards you. In that split second, your bravado waivers and you make a mad dash out of the room and towards the safety of your bedroom.

But he doesn’t chase after you, oh no. He takes his time, smelling you out as he slowly follows. It feels like he is in every corner of every room like Gio had managed to fill the house with himself. Every shadow appeared to be intimidating, every closed door just another place where Gio could be hiding, waiting for you. Every time you trip over the too-long pant legs, you stumble and look around the room, a deer in headlights, fearing that he would be just behind you. He never was. And that felt more terrifying than if he _was_ in the room.

You manage to get up the stairs, breathless already as you pause to take a breather - knowing that you were using up valuable time. You are _certain_ Gio is behind you, less than an arms-length away. Your belief only strengthens when you can hear him talking, clear as day. As if he was right there beside you. “Where is it you think you can hide from me? I know this house better than anyone, little mouse, I built it from the ground up. I know every brick, every pipe, every little pebble that is in this house, as well as every little hiding space that my home has to offer. If you think there is a single alcove or crevice that would keep you from me, you are sorely mistaken. You will never escape me, _piccolo coniglio_. So it’s best that you don’t even try.“ His voice is low, echoing, full of an ancient power you forgot that he had, that being reason alone for causing a shiver to run down your spine. If you concentrate, it is almost like it is seeping out of the walls around you. Perhaps giving chase was a bad idea to begin with. Perhaps you should just give up now, hope he grants you mercy. That would be the saner idea.

You keep running.

By some miracle, you end up in your room, diving under the bed, trying to level and control your breathing as you listen carefully, hearing carefully measured footsteps enter each room and walk out. You were hoping that you wearing his clothes would, at the very least, hinder his endeavour to find you, just enough for you to escape to Zhuk or Bee, someone who can protect you from the angry Italian.

You managed to get one more breath before the door to your room opens. You curl in on yourself, wanting to be as small as possible as he slowly paces the room, audibly sniffing at the air. Your heart comes to a pounding stop when you realise he’s stopped walking, stopped sniffing. He’s just standing somewhere in the room but you have no idea where. A dark chuckle rings in your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine. “Oh _piccola_ , did you really think you could hide from me in here?” His amusement comes off in waves as you cling to his cane, ready to use it to defend yourself at any moment.

The hand that shot out in the dark to grab your ankle causes you to jolt in shock and scream as he drags you out from under the bed. “Wait, wait Gio, hang on-”

The sound of tearing fabric causes both of you to go still. You look down to see the back of his blazer and shirt were torn, having gotten caught on something on the way out. Your eyes quickly dart back over to Gio, swallowing when you see how angry he is. “It was an accident?” You say, hoping it’d be enough that he’d let you go and focus on his poor suit instead.

With a yelp, he has you over his shoulder, arms holding you down as he marches back down to the smoking-room, where it all began. No matter how you squirm, how much you plea, how hard you kick at his chest, his grip on you stays firm as he continues his march downstairs.

He, less than gracefully, throws you to the floor. In an act of adrenaline fuels desperation, your hand swings out with his cane in hand, hoping to get a good strike to his legs in order for you to make your escape. He calmly grabs at your wrist, yanking the cane from your hand before letting go and staring down at you, looming over you, finally giving a one-word command. “Strip.”

You have pushed and pushed and pushed at this point. The idea of disobeying more was not one you think you should follow through on. You slowly stand and start to disrobe, throwing item of clothing after item of clothing on the ground, wincing when you see how large of a rip Gio dragging you out of the bed had caused. When you stand there, just in your bra and panties, eyes to the ground as you sway awkwardly, Gio looks up from what he’s doing, tutting softly, disapprovingly. “All of it.” He prompts.

You swallow before undoing your bra and throwing it on top of the pile of clothing you have managed to create before carefully, slowly, peeling down your panties, leaving you completely bare. He hums, happy with what he sees as he walks in a slow circle around you, taking in every inch of skin he can see. You swallow when he stops in front of you, trying your best to remain quiet as his hand comes over to brush against your neck. You can feel the heavy leather of the collar resting in his hand as it slides against your skin and is locked shut.

“Kneel.” Comes his next command. You feel your knees hit the ground before you can even register what your body is doing. “Face against the ground.” You whimper but do as instructed, your ass staying up in the air as you do so. A faint click in front of you is your only warning before you feel his hand dart towards your collar, another click confirming your fate as you try to lift your head up only to be held back down. A small chain keeping your head close to the floor. You readjust, knees spreading slightly as you struggle to regain your balance.

You can hear him actively planning on what to do next as he walks around you, admiring you like he would one of his paintings, kneeling for him, spreading for him, _presenting_ for him. “That suit is ruined, Y/N.” He starts, voice even and careful. “Do you know how much it will cost me to replace it?”

“I’m sure you can find the money to afford it.” You mutter out. A swish can be heard throughout the room before a loud crack echoes down the hall. You yelp as the sting left by his cane starts to heat up.

He tuts disapprovingly. “Have we already forgotten what to do during punishment?”

You swallow back another witty remark. “No.” There is a beat and you can almost feel him reaching to give you another whack with the cane. “Sir.” You finally tag on. “One, thank you Sir, may I have another Sir?” You grit out. This was unfair, it was an accident, why were you being punished for this?

He hums, accepting your begrudging count. “Now, _piccolo coniglio_ , let’s count your transgressions.” He starts. “One, wearing my suit without permission, two, disobeying me when I told you to remove it, three, running away after being told to come to me, four, ruining my suit when you hid from me and five, your never-ending bratty, bratty behaviour.” He counts off. “One strike per misdeed? I believe that’s fair.” You don’t even dare challenge him on that, once his mind is made up, there is no going back. “Y/N.” He warns.

“Yes Sir. That’s fair.” You mutter, mentally preparing for the rest of your punishment.

He hums approvingly. “Good.” Is all he says as he finally finds his stance behind you. “Four more to go, _piccola_ , count them.” He reminds.

A whistle through the air is your only warning before a loud ‘crack’ fills the room. You grunt as you move forward slightly to try and escape the source of the sting and the heat currently radiating from your backside. A clearing of the throat prompts you. “Two, thank you Sir, may I have another Sir?”

There is a beat before the familiar sound of his cane rushing through the air can be heard and you try to relax in time for the feeling of wood hitting skin, the rush of blood and the painful throbbing sting that follows. You don’t miss it this time. “Three, thank you Sir, may I have another Sir?”

The following two strikes are just as hard as the others, and you are certain you are going to have welts that will make it difficult to sit down for a few days. Each strike is followed by your count, your final one you leave out the last part of your scripted response, as per Gio’s liking. There is a semi tense silence that follows as the tears in your eyes that had started to well after the fourth strike threaten to spill over. It hurt so bad but oh so, so _good_.

The feeling of cool leather gently palming against the sorest part of your ass breaks you from your thoughts with a gasp, it helping settle the pain currently burning under your skin. “You did so well, _piccola_.” He purrs, hand slowly drifting down, moving to cup at your dripping wet heat. “I suppose a reward is in order, yes?”

Before you even have a chance to respond, you feel a leather-clad finger slowly work its way inside of you, followed by a second as he stretches you out slightly. He begins to pump his fingers inside of you, pressing up against all those sensitive spots that only Gio seemed to know how to find. His rumbling chuckle vibrates down your back from his chest when you whine as he begins to narrowly miss that one spot he had been teasing, his lips pressing against your neck as he slowly pulls out, his fingers moving to rest against your mouth.

“Clean them.” Your mouth drops at his order, sliding over the smooth material of his gloves as you suck your slick clean off of them, a mix of leather and something undeniably you dancing on your tongue as you map each groove, each divet, along the stitching and along the seams. You can feel your eyes roll back into the back of your head as you work on autopilot, going over the material covering his hand again and again until all traces of you disappears and the flavour of expensive leather grows stronger and stronger until it’s all you can taste. You are so lost in continuing to run your tongue between his fingers that you don’t feel the blunt probing of his cock against your entrance until the stretch of him filling you once more makes you realise what he’s doing. With a broken moan around his fingers, you push back until he bottoms out inside of you, filling you completely as Gio presses his body against yours with a grunt.

You wait for him to move, but the seconds keep ticking by and he’s taking. Too. Long. You press back, the slightly muffled ‘move’ leaving your lips, causing him to chuckle again, teeth nipping at your skin. “Hush now, _coniglietto_. Let me take care of you. You were doing so well for me, _piccola_ , don’t ruin that now.” He warns before he gently rolls his hips, making sure you feel the drag of every inch of his length as he slowly starts to fuck you against the carpet, your small moans only growing into a slow crescendo as he picks up his speed, his hand slipping from your mouth as his glove disappears in time for his fingers to press into your hips as he pulls you back against him, nails digging in until small scratches start to appear beneath them, small praises falling from his lips, whispered gently in your ear.

You can feel a heated coil in your belly start to tighten just as his hand starts to drift down, fingers moving to play expertly with your clit. Your moans turn into grunts, your grunts turn to cries as he brings you closer and closer to that edge. You tighten around him, feeling the coil in your belly burst as warmth shudders through you, clenching around his cock as you come with a loud cry. You can barely hear his praises, his hips beginning to fall out of rhythm as he approaches his release. You feel his lips press a gentle kiss just below your collar as he spills inside of you, causing you to whimper as your body finally gives out and you collapse onto the floor with a loud ‘thud’, eyes fluttering closed as exhaustion takes over your body.

When you come to, you’re back in Gio’s bed, feeling clean and warm as you lay in his arms under silk sheet, his hands tracing at your skin lightly as he lets you wake up fully. “Good morning, _piccola_.” He greets, amusement in his voice.

“Mornin’.” Is all you get out, voice thick with sleep as you snuggle up closer towards him, resting your chin on his chest.

“What did we learn?”

“That expensive material tears easy and that it really shows that money doesn’t equal quality?” A low growl rumbles from his chest as you move to press a kiss against his skin. “I just wanted to see how it felt to wear something like that, that’s all. And, ya know. I think I looked pretty damn good in that suit.”

“Indeed it did. Worth every cent.” He sounds almost proud.

“I’m sorry that I ruined it though, I didn’t mean to-”

“Get caught?”

“……well yes but I also didn’t mean to ruin it.”

He hums. “I could buy a hundred more if I wished, _tesoro_. There is no need to fret about it now. What’s done is done.”

“How much _was_ it anyway?” You pale when he tells you the price, feeling rather than seeing his smirk, feeling his lips against the top of your head as he tells you not to worry about it. “I feel like I need to make it up to you though.” You confess, a small sound of surprise leaving your lips when he pulls you up so you’re sitting in his lap as he lays flat against the bed, a playful smile on his lips that few got to see, eyes glinting with promises of future plans you are yet to be informed of.

“I think we can think of something.”


End file.
